I am not a close friend of Michelle Bachelet, the new president of Chile, but I've met her enough times in the last three decades to be able to provide some sort of insight, perhaps, into what we can expect from the first woman to become head of state of a Latin American nation on her own merits (and not because she happened to be married to some general or politician).

The only time I talked to her at length was in Chile itself during the Pinochet dictatorship. It was 1986 and I had just published a collection of short stories called Cuentos Para Militares (Stories for the Military) dedicated to four Chilean officers who remained loyal to President Salvador Allende by virulently opposing the 1973 coup that overthrew him. One of those officers was the air force general Alberto Bachelet who paid with his life for that loyalty; he was arrested by his colleagues and tortured and ultimately assassinated in his cell on March 12 1974. His widow, Angela Jeria, a good friend, and her daughter Michelle - both of whom had themselves also been arrested and tortured - came to the semi-clandestine presentation of the book.

It was an emotional moment and Michelle was moved by this homage to her father. And yet, unlike many victims of the dictatorship, she did not seem obdurately anchored to the past. She was not ready to forget what had been done to her family, but her eyes were steadfastly fixed on the future, on how to turn herself into a bridge to the armed forces her father had belonged to, a bridge to the soldiers that she, as an "air force brat", knew so intimately. So I wasn't surprised when, many years later, in more democratic times - I think it was in the year 2003 - President Lagos named her as minister of defence in his government after she had been a brilliant minister of health. I was even less surprised when she became instrumental in reconciling the armed forces to the Chilean populace upon which they had inflicted such pain and devastation during the 17 years of the dictatorship.

In that conversation back in 1986, I confirmed an intuition about Michelle that I had formed in previous encounters. She seemed to have her feet very much on the ground, appeared to be quite pragmatic, direct, down to earth and unassuming. But what I recall, above all else, was a certain untamed twinkle in her eye - not just a sense of humour that surfaced unexpectedly (it was a solemn occasion, after all, and we did not even know if the military might not raid our "book party"), but also something slightly boisterous in her personality, perhaps even disruptive. I can remember saying to myself: this woman is unpredictable.

So what can we expect from Michelle? (And the fact that people automatically call her by that first name, just like that, in such a familiar manner, already indicates how comfortable she makes them feel, her unpretentiousness). She has already instituted, for the first time in Latin American history (and almost in world history), a government where there are as many female ministers and other high government officials as there are males. Her first measures as president, announced Monday March 13, have been to raise the pensions, assign bonuses to low income mothers, increase care for the elderly and invalids, part of an effort to create the "patria inclusiva", a homeland that is all-encompassing and compassionate with every last one of its citizens. This amplified social agenda runs in tandem with her decision to retain the cautious economic programme she inherits from the three democratic presidents who preceded her and which has led Chile to sustained growth but also has left the country with an enormous gap between the rich and the poor, the largest in a shamefully unfair Latin America. Perhaps the major challenge of Michelle's government will be to reconcile this expanded social agenda of hers with a relatively austere and conservative financial policy.

All of this could be expected.

What I did not anticipate - and what I most like about President Bachelet so far - is the fact that I hardly know anyone in the new government. In the three democratic administrations that paved the way for her rise to power, I was on a first name basis with perhaps two thirds, maybe even three quarters, of the Ministers, most of them, naturally, men. When she announced her cabinet, I personally knew only three of her designated collaborators, and not one was a real friend. I had hardly heard about any of the rest of them. Readers may dismiss this as anecdotal, but I prefer to view it as crucial: Michelle's wild streak erupting to destroy the complacency of the Chilean elite, bringing new faces, new blood, and a certain delightful commotion into politics as it is habitually practiced in my socially conservative country.

There it is, the unpredictability I discerned inside her that day 20 years ago in a Chile that was still ruled by the man who had killed the dead father we were honouring.

And a final note: I heard from a friend (I still have some contacts inside the new government!) that when Michelle, before she became president, convened her future cabinet for a two day retreat at a Chilean seaside resort, she handed out policy papers and demands about team work and responsibility and the need to spend more time among the ordinary people - all very conventional procedures - but that when night had come, she had all the work tables removed and cheerfully announced that they were all going to engage for the next three hours in a marathon session of merengue, salsa and even reggae.

Rosa Luxembourg said it almost a century ago: if you don't dance, don't come to the revolution.

I doubt that Michelle Bachelet will create a revolution in Chile, of the sort her father died for, but I'm relatively sure that in the coming years she will be doing a helluvalot of dancing.

(In my next posting, I will take a look at what Bachelet's presidency might mean for human rights and the end of the very long Chilean transition to democracy).